Dean's Mistakes
by thoughtyouknewr
Summary: Dean thinks everything is going great. Sam is healing, and that's all that really matters. All that changes when two men from the future randomly appear. Now they get to see what would've happened if he had never gone to that bar. Sequel to Dean's Rules
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own supernatural, and never will. The same goes for the rest of the story too. **

**Yeah, it's sequel time! This was pretty fast for me. **

**This continues on from the end of my story "Dean's Rules" so if you haven't read that then a few things in here might confuse you.**

**It's not totally _vital_ to read the prequel, I guess, but it's definitely advised. **

**WARNINGS!; swearing, cuddling (of course) , bullying, um…**

**Let the story begin!**

Chapter 1 Oops, Wrong Time, Sorry!

Dean Winchester couldn't believe it. The time line had gotten messed up somewhere along the way, so guess who had to go fix it?

That right! Dean and his little brother had been commissioned with the task of fixing the damn time line. And by God himself, no less, so there was no refusing.

God hadn't gone all "Do it or I shall smite you!" on Dean, but he had decided it would be wise not to test God. If God had been any other person, however, he would've told them to go screw themself.

Dean hadn't even had time to tell Sam all of this before they were swept back in time! God had pulled him out of the space time continue, given them the job, and then thrown them back in time before Dean had a chance to speak with Sam.

Since when did God care, anyway? He had allowed the world to go to hell in a hand basket, but now he was suddenly worried about the _time_ _line_? It just didn't feel right.

Whatever, it didn't really matter now, because Dean had already agreed, and the couldn't go home until their task was completed.

How was one supposed to go about fixing a time line? Dean supposed that would've been a good question to ask God before he agreed to all of this. It was the kind of thing _Sam_ normally made sure they knew, so Dean didn't think to worry about it. Sam was going to kill him for that…..

Speaking of Sam, said little brother suddenly literally _stumbled_ into being next to him and smashed into the nearest piece of furniture.

It seemed Sam was still as accident prone as ever. Some things never changed.

_**Supernatural**_

Dean was having a good day. He and his baby brother were curled up on the couch watching "The Wizard of Oz." It turned out that saying his Sammy _liked_ the movie was akin to saying that Dean _liked_ food; it was a major understatement.

Sammy was quoting the movie as they went along, but it wasn't ruining either of their enjoyment. Dean actually found it kind of funny.

Dean spent more time watching his baby's changing expressions than he did watching the movie. It was fascinating to see how much Sammy's feelings were given away by his facial expression. To Dean, it was _far_ more entertaining than _any_ movie.

This much-needed bonding time was cut short by two people dropping out of midair to land in front of the TV. That ruined his mood slightly.

The shorter man just continued grumbling to himself about "God" being unable to "tell him to shove it" and "Sam's going to _kill_ me".

The taller man, however, stumbled as soon as he landed. He let out a yell of surprise as he slammed into a bookcase and then sank down into the corner the case and the wall created. He curled into a ball and rocked himself back and forth, muttering something Dean couldn't hear.

"Sammy?" the shorter man asked in alarm as he took in the sight of the taller one.

And _damn_ but the man looked like Dean! Even his voice was the same.

He moved quickly, throwing salt and holy water, before nicking both men with a silver knife. Neither of them so much as glanced at him.

Hugh; normally that got _some_ kind of reaction, even if it was just the poor people looking at him like he was insane,

The shorter man rushed to the one apparently named "Sammy" and knelt down next to him. He was completely disregarding the possible threats of other people in the room, and Dean found himself disapproving.

"Com'mon, Sammy; talk to me," the shorter man pleaded.

"They don't bleed!" Sammy shouted in consternation. "How am I supposed to kill something that _doesn't bleed_!"

The shorter man stared at him incredulously. "_That's_ what you're all worked up over?" he inquired as though he thought Sammy was kidding.

Dean hadn't attacked them yet simply because he had been shocked by their appearance, and they didn't seem to realize he or his baby were there. He motioned to _his_ Sammy to hide before cautiously backing away himself.

How they could _not_ notice him after he cut them was beyond him.

"This is getting a little ridiculous, Sam," the unknown man was declaring. "You're almost thirty years old; you shouldn't get like this over _clowns_ anymore. Then again, maybe you should be, since you're the _only _person in the world who could manage to find an actual unkillable clown."

Dean found himself almost angry at the man for lecturing the man with his baby brother's name when said man was obviously so upset.

Suddenly the shorter man stopped his lecture. "Dude, are you _hyperventilating_? Really?" he asked. "You gotta calm down Man."

Dean suddenly darted forward. He knew he should be much more suspicious of two people who had randomly popped out of thin air, but his big-brother-o-meter was going insane at the sight of the taller man curling into himself and indulging in what seemed to be a panic attack. Besides, he _had_ already tested them.

He plopped onto his butt and grabbed one of the big man named Sammy's hands. He pressed the hand to his chest, deliberately concentrating on staying clam so his heartbeat would stay slow and steady. It _always_ clamed _his_ Sammy down to be able to feel a steady heartbeat when he was panicking.

It seemed to be working for this person too, until he started gasping for air that literally _wasn't th_ere.

Dean knew he had brought the man down from complete panic, so what was the problem now? This was not included in his own experience as a big brother.

His baby, however, seemed to know exactly what was going on.

How the tiny boy managed to push the big man (still unknown, Dean noted) out of his way, no one would ever know, but he did do it somehow.

He had a small object in his hand, but Dean didn't know what it was until he shoved it into the bigger man's mouth.

The new Sammy obviously knew how to operate an inhaler (which was more than Dean could say) because he immediately put the little device to work.

"Since when do you have _asthma_?" the unknown man asked, aghast.

"Why do you have an inhaler?" Dean demanded of his baby. _His_ Sammy was gonna be in some serious shit if he had asthma and hadn't told Dean about it.

"I-," both boys stuttered together. They sounded so alike that Dean was brought back to the present and out of mother hen mode with a thump.

"Who the hell are you?" he snarled, picking his baby up and backing away.

Sammy shouldn't have been on his feet anyway; he was still strictly regulated to bed rest.

"Relax," the nameless man soothed carelessly. "We come in peace and all that shit."

"Dean," big Sammy scolded as he finally got his breathing under control. "Where are we? How did we get here?"

The newly christened older Dean fidgeted nervously. "Ok, no killing me before I get to finish explaining," he pleaded.

"Dean-" there was now clear warning in new Sammy's tone.

"Alright, I was about to tell you anyway," the man whined. "I, uh, I got a visit from God about five minutes ago," he bit his lip.

"What did you _do_, Dean?" big Sammy questioned with dread in his voice.

"He told me there was a disturbance in the time line, and I said we'd go back and fix it. But I, um, I forgot to ask him _how_ we were supposed to do that," new Dean answered.

"_D_ean," new Sammy protested.

"Well excuse _m_e, Sam, I was a little bit worried about getting smited if I didn't agree. You normally worry about that kind of crap, anyway, I just didn't think about it," big Dean snapped.

"Well, at least we don't have to look to find the disturbance," big Sammy muttered. The dude was a freakin' _giant_ now that he was standing. He was taller than the damn book case!

"What da'ya mean?" older Dean questioned.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't seem to remember us having all that many movie nights when I was fifteen. And even when we _did_ sit down for a night together, we didn't watch _that_ movie. And besides, you certainly didn't hold me like that anymore." What new Sammy was saying might make sense to him, but it appeared he was the only one.

New Dean glanced at the TV screen where they movie was still playing, and his face was suddenly filled with distaste. Dean felt anger boil in his gut at someone making fun of something his baby enjoyed so much.

"Why the _hell_ are we watching _that_ movie?" other Dean inquired with disgust coating his voice thickly.

Dean was about to say something nasty, but other Sammy answered before he could say anything.

"_I _happen to like that movie," he sniffed.

"Of course you do," other Dean snorted.

"And, _for your information_, Jess loved it too. It was actually how we met. There was a movie theater on campus that played old movies, so I when it played The Wizard of Oz, I was all for it."

"Most people are either die hard fans, or hate the thing. Die hard fans almost always own the movie, so it was just me and Jess in the whole theater. We went back to my place afterwards and set up future meetings," the big Sammy continued as though he hadn't been interrupted.

"That's great, Sammy. Can we focus on the problem at hand now?" big Dean asked, irritated.

Dean thought that was rather rude of him. This obviously meant a lot to the larger (but seemingly younger; there was just something _younger_ about him) man, which would have been enough encouragement for Dean to at least _pretend_ he was listening, even if he didn't pretend to care. This new Dean didn't even bother.

"Sorry," big Sammy muttered. "But how the hell do you expect _me_ to know anything about fixing a _time_ _line_? I mean, it's not like we've ever done anything remotely resembling this before. Except for with Balthazar, and we didn't end up having to be the ones fixing that."

"I don't know, geekboy. I guess I figured you were actually _l_earning something when you had your freakishly long nose buried in a book," big Dean snarked.

"I _do_ learn things when I'm reading, Dean, but I normally try and limit myself to whatever we're working on so we can get the job done faster," the other man snapped right on back.

Dean was starting to get an idea of who these people might be.

A Sammy, and a Dean from the future. Both Sammy's had asthma, which Dean was just now finding out about. Both Sammy's loved The Wizard of Oz.

That was few too many consequences for Dean to comfortably stomach.

But he would need proof. Something no one could ever duplicate.

Then he looked up at the taller version of what might be his baby boy.

This man's face was exhausted and slightly miserable. The bags under his eyes were bigger than Dean had ever seen them before. His checks were thin with looked like lack of food.

All in all, he looked like a mess.

But most of all, he looked like _Dean's_ _Sammy_. There was just something in his expression that no shape shifter or any other supernatural creature could copy. And believe him, they had tried; he always called them on it in seconds.

There was some unexplainable thing about the man that _screamed_ Sammy Winchester, Dean's baby.

He supposed the other person must be an older version of himself, and resolved that he would have to talk to the man about how you were supposed to treat little Angels who were mother's last gifts.

But that would have to wait for later, because right now he needed to deal with a third man who had just popped into his living room. Really, couldn't they at least have the courtesy to _knock_ first, or something?

He was mad at random future people for popping into his living room without _ knocking. _His life was seriously weird.

**And there it is. I hope that didn't confuse anyone. **

**What do you think? Are future Dean and Sam (they're from season 7) too OOC? I tried to keep them pretty much in character, but I've noticed that I tend to just write what feels natural rather than what they would most likely say in the actually show. It's the same with all of my stories.**

**I have no medical knowledge whatsoever, so anything that I mention in this story is purely fiction and should under no circumstances be taken as hard fact. **

**Signs that you're watching Supernatural too much! So the other day, there was this one girl who was being pretty bossy. She was trying to get everyone to work on what we were supposed to be doing, but a lot of the girls were messing around, so she kept getting more and more insistent.**

**Then this guy comes walking by and goes "Whoa need a whip there?"**

**And my first thought was wasn't something normal, like , "Why is this random guy bothering us?" No, it was "oh, kinky." I thankfully did not blurt this out loud. **

**And then I was like, "whoa, channeling Dean much there."**

**Ok, need to randomly rant fulfilled.**

**Thoughts?**


	2. Chapter 2 Angels Need to Learn

**I don't own supernatural**

**Ok, so long wait, but also long chapter. I've been having computer trouble (freezing randomly restarting, that kind of stuff) so it's been hard to write. Writers block has also been a bit of a problem lately **

**It's done now, though, so on to the story!**

Chapter 2 Angels Need to Learn to Mind their own Business

"Why do you _need_ to fix it?" the new man whined. "I like things the way I changed them. Hell, this way I might not even die!"

"Gabriel," Dean's older self snarled. "We should've known you were involved in this."

"Yes, you should've," Gabriel agreed. "Besides, there's something in it for you too this time."

"That doesn't mean we should just let you get away with it," big Sam objected. "Making our lives easier might make thousands of other peoples' lives harder."

"Besides, it would be worth keeping our lives the way they are just to screw you over," older Dean declared.

"And then there's the chance that our lives end up _worse_ than they are now, which would be difficult, but surely possible," big Sammy added in.

Dean didn't like the sound of that. His baby was supposed to have a long and happy life, not such a hard one that he wouldn't take the chance of making it better for fear of making it worse.

"Well, it's too late now," Gabriel threw out carelessly. "I already got permission from father, and now you're stuck here."

"What do you mean you got permission?" big Dean asked. "He told us to come back and find some way to set things to rights."

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that," Gabriel apologized. "I had to do _something_ to get you to come. You're supposed to see what would have happened all because of one little change."

"See, that's what I got the go ahead to change; one event in your lives. I'll give you a hint if you want," the strange man offered.

"I-sure," the older version of Dean's little boy stammered. Sammy was always so cute when he was unsure. Actually, he was cute all the time.

"It has to do with Deano's last date," Gabriel stated.

Which Dean was he talking about? Did he mean Dean himself, or Dean's older counterpart? It was probably Dean himself, so that meant it had something to do with Kylie.

"Oh, and by the way, Sammy, I think it's passed time to bring you down to size," the man declared.

He snapped his fingers, and Dean was suddenly watching the older version of his baby boy shrink.

It was odd to watch someone shrink. Dean had never had the opportunity to watch anything like it before, but it was truly fascinating. It was also alarming for the simply reason that someone was again messing with what was his.

Worse yet, his older self was doing nothing about it! He was just standing there, watching.

Setting his own version of Sam down on the couch, he lurched towards the rapidly shrinking version. "Sammy!" he gasped.

He latched on to his big little brother and held him steady as he shrank.

"What did you do to him?" he snarled.

"Just fixing a few things," Gabriel waved dismissively. "I won't hurt him."

Sam gasped as he shrunk to a little bigger than the teenage version of him on the couch.

When it was over, he straightened to his full height, which was now diminutive. "You couldn't have done that when I was first cursed?" he snarked.

"Well that would just ruin the fun," Gabriel pouted. "Besides, considering I was the one to curse you in the first place, it would have been completely counterproductive."

Dean crushed the newly small version of his baby brother to his chest. "Stay _away_ from him!" he growled.

"I'm gonna go now; I think you got some family issues to work through," Gabriel grinned. "This is going to be sooooooo much fun," he muttered to himself as he vanished.

"Why _th_e _hell_ didn't you tell me you'd been cursed?" the older Dean demanded. "And what's wrong with younger you? I don't remember you ever being that hurt as a fifteen year old."

"You didn't know about the curse because it happened while I was at Stanford. In my mind, I've always been this small," new Sammy explained.

"During the summer, I woke up one day, tried to get out of bed, and ended up jamming my ankle 'cause I wasn't expecting to hit the floor that soon. When I'm not moving at all, my perception of my own height is this, but when I'm reaching for something it's like I suddenly grow a foot and a half," he was careful how he phrased things, but Dean still wasn't sure he understood.

"It was disconcerting, you know? One second I would be standing there at what felt like my normal height, and the next I would be head and shoulders above everyone because someone had bumped into me."

That Dean could understand a bit better. It was still confusing, but the visual picture was coming together now.

"I was so clumsy for awhile," Sam smirked. "I broke a lot of stuff while I was trying to get used to it."

"I called Bobby, and we tried researching ways to fix it, but we never found any. I eventually got used to it, and there was no need to tell you when you finally contacted my three and a half years later," new Sam finished with a slight bitterness in his tone.

"We can return to this in a second," Dean cut in. "What _I_ want to know, is why I wasn't informed that you had asthma." He leveled his version of his baby with a stern look.

"I thought Paul told you," Sammy shrugged. "He was the one who told me I had it."

"Oh," Dean blinked.

He would be having words with Paul about that. Right after he learned everything there was to know about asthma. How was he supposed to take care of his little boy if he didn't know about his Sammy's health conditions?

Sammy suddenly yawned, and Dean's eyes softened. His baby had been sleeping a lot lately because of all the pain meds he was on. Dean didn't mind; Sammy talked in his sleep which was amusing sometimes, and he looked (if possible) even more angelic when he was sleeping.

"Looks like the meds are kicking in again, huh?" he asked gently.

Sammy yawned again and nodded.

"Go to sleep," Dean instructed, running his hand through his baby brother's hair. "I'll take care of things here."

"Kay," Sammy agreed. He reached for Dean to pick him, and then snuggled against his big brother's shoulder when his silent request was granted.

"Stay here," Dean told the older two versions.

He carried his baby to bed and tucked him in. "Sleep well, baby boy," he whispered. He pressed a kiss to Sammy's forehead, but his baby didn't feel it because he was already sleeping soundly.

Dean gave a fond smile and ran his hand through his baby's soft hair one last time before going back to the living room.

_**Supernatural**_

When he reentered the room, Sammy was sitting on the couch that his younger self had just vacated, and the older Dean was pacing around the room.

"What's wrong with him?" he demanded as soon as he saw Dean walking into the room.

"That can wait a second," Dean dismissed. He narrowed his eyes at Sammy. "There's still something you're not telling about your health."

He had learned to read his baby boy even better during the weeks they had spent together while Sammy was recovering. He knew exactly when Sam was trying to hide something about his health from his big brother.

"What? I-it's not anything important," the little boy stuttered.

It was odd to know Sammy was a lot older than him now, but he still responded the same to Dean. Besides, his little boy was going to slip eventually, because there was _no way_ Dean was letting this one slip.

"No, I want the truth. _Now_," he added when it seemed like Sam was about to repeat his denial.

It was something big that his baby had known about for awhile and hadn't told the older Dean, or he wouldn't be this nervous.

"I, I have a little problem with my..um, with my heart," Sammy finally admitted.

"What!" both Deans exploded.

"What the _hell_, Sam?" the older one questioned again.

Dean, however, took a deep breath and tried an alternative route. "You have three seconds to explain why I didn't know about this, and then you don't want to know what's going to happen," he threatened.

Sammy seemed to realize his threat probably had a different meaning than the older Dean, because his eyes widened and he hastened to explain.

"I didn't even know about it until I was at Stanford," he said, as though that should explain.

"So why didn't I get a phone call about it?" the older Dean inquired furiously.

"You're kidding, right?" his baby brother asked incredulously. "If you'd wanted to answer your phone, you would've done it the first night I was away, or when the hospital called."

Both Deans froze. "What hospital?" the asked in perfect unison.

"The one I was stuck in until school started after I left home," Sam answered stubbornly giving only the information that was required of him.

"_Why_ were you in a hospital?" Dean continued the questioning while his older self growled angrily.

"I-" Sam hesitated again, telling Dean that he was going to like the answer. He gestured for his baby to continue. "I had a heart attack," he finally revealed.

"Again, why I didn't I hear about this!" older Dean seemed almost ready to shake Sammy.

"Because you did!" Sammy finally exploded. And then the whole story was spilling out. "The freaking hospital called Dad first thing, and do you wanna know what he said? He said he only had one son, and to never contact him again."

"He friggig _yelled_ so loud that people across the lobby could hear him that I was a disgrace, worthless, and should find the quickest easiest way to kill myself with the least hassle for him."

"And you tired to tell me later that he missed me. I think he made his feelings on the subject plenty clear," Sam stated coldly.

"The doctor told all the hospital personal that I wasn't to know about it. But gossip is a bitch, and people don't realize how thin hospital walls are, so I heard every word when I was recovering," he sneered,

This wasn't the baby brother Dean knew, but he could still see _his_ Sammy under all that bitterness and hurt. He would just have to draw that Sammy back out.

"And then I apparently started saying your name when I was sleeping. They called you and left a voice message. You saw that I had called, and called back to say that you didn't want to hear from me again, and that it was _my_ choice to leave," Sam laughed slightly hysterical.

"My choice, and now I needed to deal with the consequences on my own. Oh, and let's not forget; not to call you again," Sammy finished.

Dean felt horrible that _anyone_ had gone through that, let alone _his_ baby. What was _wrong_ with his older self?

"I never even listened to the voice message," the older boy admitted. Dean didn't know if that made it better of worse. "Dad had my phone; was fixing it after a hunt. He told me the message was you saying that I should give up hunting and go to college with you," older Dean explained. "I didn't have any reason not to believe him."

"Dad doesn't care about Sam. Never listen to a word he says about Sam," Dean advised.

His father's intervention had done horrible damage to his baby, and he wasn't allowing that to happen again. From now on, Dad had no right to have any say in things that concerned Sammy.

Older Dean sighed and squatted in front of Sammy. "But why didn't I hear about it after we got back together? Why haven't you ever had any problems around me?" he asked.

"Cause it never happens around you," Sam said as though that explained everything.

"It's stress induced. The rest of the time I'm fine, but being under constant stress and pressure triggers asthma attacks and (in extreme cases) heart attacks. They aren't fixable conditions, but they don't normally bother me," Sam concluded.

"You eat stress for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; how could that _not_ trigger stress related conditions.

"You don't understand," Sam stated with frustration. "It only happens when _you_ aren't there, or aren't paying any attention to me. I can deal with the stress as long as you're helping."

"Oh," older Dean stated, dropping onto his butt. "Well then…."

"Yeah," his baby brother agreed.

Dean decided he was going to have to keep a close eye on _his_ Sammy to make sure none of these problems escalated as they had with the older Sammy.

"Why are you so tiny?" he suddenly asked.

It was a valid question. This Sammy wasn't any bigger than the Sammy he had just laid down to take a nap. Surely Sam should've hit his growth spurt _sometime_, shouldn't he?

His baby boy (it did _not_ matter that this Sammy was older, he was _still_ Dean's baby boy and always would be) gestured back towards the bedrooms. "_That's_ why," he responded.

"Oh God," Dean breathed. These kids had hurt _his_ little angel enough to permanently affect Sammy's growth? He was starting to reconsider his decision on remain inactive in the search for his little boy's tormentors.

They hadn't had much luck so far anyway. If Dean helped, the investigation might go a lot faster.

"What _is_ that?" his older counterpart inquired. "Why is it so important that one little thing connected to it would screw the whole time line?"

"_Because_, Dean, I'm supposed to be at Flagstaff right now," Sammy explained.

"Flagstaff?" Dean queried. "We've never even _been_ to Flagstaff. Was there a case there or something?"

"No," older Dean related. "That's where Sammy went when he ran off."

"It's Sam," his Sammy protested, but Dean was paying no attention to him.

"You let him out of your sight with him in _that_ condition?" he demanded. "No _wonder_ the freaking time line changed. I officially have _no idea_ how _I_ ended up like that. _I_ care about _my_ baby."

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" his older self barked, obviously insulted.

"I never told him like I must've done this time around," Sammy cut in.

"I ran off about," he checked the calendar, "half a week ago, in this time. By the time they found me, I was more able to fake being fine. Dad and Dean were both really mad, so they didn't do anything more than ask to assure themselves I was fine. It was my fault," he finished.

"And you thought it would be ok to just _leave_ with your head like-oh," Dean deadpanned. "That explains more than you can understand. And Kylie was the only reason I ever knew in the first place…..damn."

Sammy and his older counterpart exchanged glances. "What?" the both inquired.

"Bars and live karaoke ringing any bells?" Dean hinted.

Sam went bright red. "You found out about that?" he confirmed sheepishly. "Then one thing led to another, and you found out about everything. Shit, I never wanted you to know."

He looked like he wanted to dig a hole and hide in it forever.

"Anyone mind letting me into the loop?" older Dean interrupted. "Cause, I'm pretty sure this is actually kind of important, y'know?"

"It is," Dean assured him. "I went to the only local bar a couple weeks ago, and you wanna guess what I found?"

"Based on this conversation, I'm gonna have to go with it being something to do with Sam," the older man quipped.

"Yeah. He was up on the stage, actually. Did you know Sam was a ventriloquist? He's been casting his voice all over the last few weeks. Scared me half to death the first time he made the coffee pot talk to me," Dean continued conversationally.

"Sorry," Sammy muttered, his face tipped towards the floor again.

Older Dean finally saw fit to get up off of the floor. He dropped onto the couch instead, lounging easily next to his baby.

"That is one fact I was never told," he conceded once he was comfortable. He looked mildly surprised.

"Right, so I'm guessing you were also never made privy to the facts that the kids at school decided Sammy made an excellent punching bag and he didn't feel comfortable going to you because he thought you didn't care?"

The older man's jaw dropped as horror took possession of his facial expression.

"Course, the fact that you never did anything to negate that impression probably didn't do you any favors, but Dad's plan? It sucked. Keeping _away_ from Sammy almost got him killed; keeping him as close as I have been lately has been the _only_ way I've been able to keep him from accidentally hurting himself again," Dean remarked.

"What-what's wrong with him?" his older self asked hoarsely.

"Broken right ankle, a couple broken toes on his left foot, his left thumb is messed up so bad they had to put his whole wrist in a cast, several broken _and_ dislocated ribs, slashes through his chest (deep ones, too) from the last hunt, bruises on ninety percent of his body, and a lot of little cuts from dropping knives while he was practicing. Oh, and let's not forget the concussion. God, the concussion," he concluded in a whisper.

"He isn't thinking clearly at all. Half the time it's like he can't get enough of being around me. He does pretty much anything I even suggest and lets me help him with things he can't do."

"Then there's times when he makes the stupidest decisions out of routine and impeded judgment. I caught him trying to make dinner last night, and he isn't even supposed to be standing on his own two feet."

"If your version of Sammy ran away like that, I'm surprised he was even alive when you found him," Dean analyzed.

"Sammy," older Dean breathed. "Why didn't you say something? All those months we spent in that town. All that time after we found you. Jesus, Dad had you on do-or-die training for _weeks_ after we found you. Why did you _say_ anything?" he questioned brokenly.

"I-they were human. Dad would've been mad I wasn't able to defend myself which would've meant even _more_ training, and-" Sam cut himself off.

"You want to know what _my_ version said?" Dean put in. "He said he didn't think I cared. He said I was acting like I was mad at him, but he couldn't think of anything he had done to make me angry. He said for all he knew, I had just decided I didn't _want_ to take care of him."

There was stunned silence for a few seconds. Older Dean looked like he was trying to process what he had just been told, and his baby looked like he was trying to figure out the secret to becoming invisible.

Younger Sammy made a noise from the other room, and Dean decided it was time to retreat.

His baby needed him. And besides, older Sammy and himself needed some time to talk. Privately.

**If you haven't noticed by now, I kind of have a thing for tiny Sammy. I just love him being so small and cuddle-able. (blushes) Sorry if you guys don't like him that way.**

**I always wanted to use that explanation for Sam being so tall in the show too. It was easy to work it into this story, so that's how it ended up. **

**Was the "Dean" and "Older Dean" thing confusing? I couldn't find a place to insert a differentiating name for the Deans, so that was how it ended up. I'm hoping to find a place to slip it in soon. **

**Thoughts?**


	3. Chapter 3 Chick Flick Moments

**I don't own supernatural. **

**De is not younger Dean. Older Dean is just Dean. **

Chapter 3 Chick Flick Moments

Dean was quiet for a few second after his young self left, but only because he was so stunned.

Sammy, _his Sammy_, had thought he didn't care? That was why Sammy had stopped trying to cuddle up to him for absolutely no reason? That was why he stopped going to Dean with all of his little problems?

Gabriel was right; this knowledge would've changed the entire course of their lives. Hell, if Sam had known Dean cared, he probably wouldn't have left for Stanford in the first place!

That had put the biggest dent in their relationship (aside from the whole Ruby thing, of course) and Dean had always blamed Sam for it. But if Sammy thought Dean didn't care, Dean couldn't fault him for wanting to leave.

He slid off the couch and squatted in front of his newly made tiny little brother. _God_, Sam was so _small_.

"Sammy," he tried. "Come on, baby, _please_ look at me," he practically begged.

The name had just slipped out. How long had it been since he called his Sammy "baby" as anything other than a joke? Too long, that's how long.

How had he forgotten that Sammy was his baby? _His_ little boy to be taken care of, treasured, and cherished beyond all else.

All those years ago, when their father had ordered him to back off, why hadn't he been an eye servant? It was possible; he had gone behind his dad's back before without the man ever knowing because Dean did as he was told while John was watching.

Sam reluctant met his gaze. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I should've been stronger. I should have been able to take care of myself. I should've _known_ you wouldn't just stop caring. I was just a stupid kid, Dean. I-"

Dean cut him off there. Sam thought _he_ needed to apologize? After all this was _Dean's_ fault?

He had forgotten this side of Sam. The side that Sam didn't often let him see anymore. The fragile side that was still the little boy, the _baby_ boy, that Dean had taken care of all his life.

"Sammy, I do _not_ want to hear one more apology out of you. How can you think this is _your_ fault? Never mind; you simply have guilt issues. You'd take responsibility for me breaking the first seal if I let you," Dean interrupted gently.

It had been too long since he took the time to be gentle like this with Sammy. Maybe all of this was stemming from the facts he had learned, but he also thought some of it was because his Sammy was so _tiny_ again.

Lord above, but he loved being able to pick up Sammy.

He did just that, standing and lifting Sam into the air before sitting back down and placing Sam in his lap.

Sam had opened his mouth (probably to explain exactly _how_ Dean breaking the seal was _his_ fault) but Dean hushed him again before he could talk.

"Just listen for a few seconds, ok?" he requested.

Sam nodded uncertainly.

"Right," Dean continued. "I never told you, but when we moved to this town, Dad gave me new orders. Before we moved here, it was always just to take care of you, but Dad wanted me to do something different this time."

"Dad told me to back off or I was going to get you killed. I was babying you too much, he told me, and you were never going to be able defend yourself if I kept it up. If you ever got separated from us, you were going to be killed because _I_ never let you do anything for yourself."

"And I listened to him, of course. I was such an idiot. The man may have _thought_ he love us, but his actions really say differently," Dean snorted. "Hey, he's alive in this time; do you think he'll show up so I can punch him?" he asked eagerly, breaking the solemn tone of their conversation.

"Dean," Sam admonished. "You can't punch Dad just 'cause you're mad at him."

"Sammy?" Dean asked, ignoring Sam's reply. Something in his voice reinstated the seriousness of the talk.

"Yeah?" Sam replied.

"I'm sorry. I didn't _know_. I never wanted you to feel like I didn't want you. _Never_," Dean said. "I don't even have an excuse. I should've told Dad to f off. I should never have made you feel like I didn't want you."

"It's ok, Dean," Sam assured earnestly. He reached up and patted Dean's check. "It was a long time ago. Besides, knowing that _Dad_ told you to do it…..it changes a lot of things, y'know?"

"I used to practically be his _slave_," Dean snorted with disgust. "I did what I was told without thinking about it. I _always_ did what I was told….."

"Because you felt like the one time you _did_ disobey you almost got me killed," Sam nodded.

Dean couldn't look at him. Sam didn't have the same problem and put his hands on Dean's checks, gently pulling his head to look at him.

Dean could remember an equally tiny Sammy doing the same thing _many_ times over the years. It brought such a rush of protectiveness, love, and _relief_ that Dean was nearly stunned.

_This_ Sammy he knew how to deal with. Dean had _raised _the little boy that made Dean focus on him even when Dean didn't feel good enough to look him in the eye; he knew everything about _that_ Sammy.

The _Sam_ he had picked up from Stanford; that was a different story. _That_ Sam shut him out, didn't let him help. That Sam thought Dean had stopped caring.

This had to be fixed. Preferably starting _now_, though Dean knew it would take a lot of time and effort to make up for the pain of so many years.

But that was ok. They had all the time in the world (they were currently stuck in the _past_, for goodness sake) and Dean was more than willing to put in the effort.

"That _wasn't_ your fault," Sam informed him, his little face deadly serious. "No matter _what_ Dad said, it wasn't your fault. You were, like, eight, De."

"I still shouldn't have left you alone in the room. I knew that," Dean protested.

"You were eight," his baby emphasized. "You know what I did when _I_ was eight?"

"Dude, I know _everything_ you did when you were eight," Dean grinned.

"Though right now I'm pretty sure you're talking about that time you thought it would be a good idea to leave the motel room in the middle of the night while I was sleeping," he added. "_So_ not cool, by the way. It scared the crap out of me to wake up and find you gone."

"My point," Sam said dryly.

"But _I_ didn't nearly get killed because of that," Dean dissented in confusion.

"I hate that you don't know this, but you didn't bother looking before you streaked across the street, dipstick," Sam snorted. "You almost got hit by a car. It was about _this close_," he held up his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart, "to hitting you."

"Really?" Dean confirmed. "Huh."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Scared the crap out of _me_."

"Guess that makes us about even," Dean surmised. "You scared me, so I scared you right on back."

"Mmmm," Sam hummed. "I'm tired, Dean."

He snuggled into Dean's chest and settled his head on Dean's shoulder. It had been _so long_ since he did that. Even when he was small enough to, he had always refrained. He had probably thought Dean didn't want him to do it.

That wasn't a pleasant idea.

"You ok?" he inquired, suddenly remembering that Sam had probably been knocked around pretty good by the clowns.

"Uh, nothing life threatening," Sam dismissed. "A couple a broken ribs, I'm gonna have bruises on my face tomorrow, and I _think_ one of them broke my hand," his Sammy frowned. "Why does everything like breaking my hand? It's really _not_ cool to have your hand broken over and over again."

"No chiz Sherlock," Dean snarked. "Let's take a look."

He stood, sat Sam back down on the couch, and started pulling his brother's shirt over his head.

Sam squeaked rather undignified-ly. Was that even a word? Did he really care? He decided the answer to both was "no" and continued on with his work.

He carefully felt down Sam's ribs, checking for breaks.

"Yeah," he finally decided. "Two broken ribs and your hand is definitely broken. You could've said something before, you know?" he half scolded. "This whole discussion could've waited until you'd been cleaned up."

"It doesn't really hurt," Sammy shrugged.

"Which is a good part of the reason why you should've _said something_," Dean reiterated. "_Nothing _hurts after Hell everything is kinda pale in comparison. You can't judge by how much pain you feel anymore, Sam. Stay here; I'm going to get the kit," he instructed.

_**Supernatural**_

De was sitting on Sammy's bed with his baby boy propped up against his chest, and a book in his hands when his older self's head popped around the door.

"Where's the kit?" he asked, like De was supposed to know what kit he was talking about.

They had lots of kits. They had a medical kit, a weapons kit, a pranking kit, hell, he even had a kit designed to keep Sammy occupied.

"Which one?" he returned.

His older self seemed momentarily startled, but recovered quickly.

"The medical one. I checked in the bathroom, but it isn't where we normally keep it," he answered.

"That's 'cause Sammy's the only one who's been needing it. We've just been keeping it in here," De replied. "It's under the desk," he waved vaguely. "Why do you need it?"

"Apparently Sam didn't think it was important to mention that he managed to break a couple rubs and bust his hand," Dean told him distractedly as he bent to grab the kit.

"What?" De questioned in a suddenly deadly voice.

"Yeah," his older self obviously didn't pick up on the change of mood. "His pain scale's really screwed up, and he used to judge how badly he was hurt by the amount of pain he was in. He obviously can't do that anymore, because he probably wouldn't do anything until he was dieing."

The older man continued to rummage through the kit for whatever he needed to take care of Sammy.

De growled a little. That was what had gotten his baby into all this trouble in the first place.

"You stay here, Sammy," he told his little brother gently. He ran his hand through his little brother's hair, and then stood.

He left the room quietly, then drastically changed his posture.

He was _not_ allowing _his_ baby boy to keep injuries to himself anymore. It had officially been promoted the very _worst_ thing Sammy could do.

He stalked into the living room, a thundercloud seeming to hover over his head.

His little boy shot to his feet as soon as he caught sight of him.

De was _pissed_, and he was unsurprised that Sam had picked up on it.

De stormed over to his baby and spun him around by the shoulders.

He landed one solid swat, then spun Sam back around and tipped his chin up to meet his eyes.

Sam's eyes were wide with surprise and maybe a little bit of fear. He was rubbing his backside, even though Dean knew it couldn't have hurt very bad. He _had_ taken into account that Sam was injured when he delivered the swat.

"You _do not_ hide it from me when you're hurt, you understand?" he demanded. "_Never_ again, Sam. _Never_."

Sam face softened as he realized why De was so panicked and stern about this.

"It isn't that bad. Really, it hardly hurts," Sam insisted.

"I don't care," De ground out. "I want to know if you've got a freaking _paper cut_, are we reaching an agreement yet?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sammy's eyes were puzzled. "Why do you care? I mean, it's not like I'm your Sam, and I never will be your Sam, so why do you care?"

De sat down and put Sam on his lap. He took hold of Sam's chin again and made sure he had his baby's full attention before he continued.

"Is your name Sam Winchester?" he started. He knew the answer, of course, but he wanted to get a point across.

"What? Of course it is," Sammy answered puzzledly.

"Just so long as your name is Sam Winchester, no matter what version of him you are, you are _my_ baby. You understand? Just because you're from a different version of the future doesn't meant you aren't my baby. You're _always_ my baby. End of story."

"Alright then," Sam drawled, pulling out the "al" sound in a tone that said he thought De was being weird.

De's older self reentered the room before he could respond.

"Shirt," Dean instructed, gesturing upwards with his chin since his hands were full of medical supplies.

De took the liberty of removing the encompassing garment for his baby brother.

He whistled at the dark bruising visible all over Sam's torso.

"What were you _doing_?" he asked.

"I got beat up by clowns," Sam pouted. "I don't like clowns."

"You have a freaking _phobia_ of them," Dean snorted. "I think saying you don't like them is a little bit of an understatement."

"When did you get a phobia?" De demanded. "Why do you have a phobia? What'd they do to you?"

"One question at a time," Sam muttered, still seated in De's lap as older Dean was tending his injuries. "Phobia started when I was around…twelve, I think. And no one did anything to me. I just decided I didn't like clowns, that's all."

"Uh-hu," both Dean's mockingly agreed. "You don't 'just decide' not to like anything."

They glanced at each other, startled, then continued. "So why?"

"Really, why does everything I do have to have some hidden meaning behind it?" Sam snapped.

It was enough to get Dean to back off, but De wasn't taking that crap.

"I don't know; why don't you tell me?" he requested.

"This isn't because I left you at Plucky's, is it?" Dean suddenly cut in.

"What? No," Sam said too quickly. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you practically started hyperventilating when I mentioned the place," Dean said flatly.

"He did?" De asked in alarm. "What happened there?"

"Nothing," Sam sighed as he squirmed a little. "I….I just…..it's stupid."

"Nothing that makes you _this_ upset is stupid," De countered.

"Dude, you've had this phobia for eighteen years; I think that counts as something that definitely isn't stupid," Dean added. He was finished tending to Sam's injuries now and abruptly sat down on the floor in front of Sam and De.

Sam continued wriggling for a few seconds under their combine scrutiny, then finally gave in. "There was this one clown there once who spent the whole time I was there just _staring_ at me," he started.

"It was freaking me out, and I was pretty sure that wasn't normal or good, so I decided to leave early and go home. It was easy enough to sneak out of the place, but I caught sight of the guy following me on my way home. It took me _forever_ to lose the dude. I was scared out of my mind by the time I finally managed to get back home, it was dark, and you still weren't back yet. I've been uncomfortable around any kind of clown ever since," he finished.

"Why wasn't I _told_?" both Dean's finally inquired in deadly quiet voices.

"Because you would've killed him," Sam snorted. "I didn't want you taking that risk. I _did_ call the police on the dude, though," he defended.

No one spoke for a second.

"Sam, you gotta stop with all these secrets," Dean finally commanded gently. "How am I supposed to protect you if I don't know anything's wrong?"

"It was _years_ ago, Dean; I didn't think it matter anymore," Sam stated.

"Anything that ever hurt you, all the way back as far as you can remember, it _always_ matters," De cut in. "Anything that made you feel even slightly uncomfortable, anyone who said something nasty; _anything_."

He couldn't see his baby boy's face (it was turned towards his older self) but Dean's expression suddenly softened.

"You're tired, Sammy," he stated. "It's late. We should go to sleep."

"Good idea," De agreed. "You guys can take Dad's bedroom. You remember where it is?"

"Yeah," his little boy confirmed tiredly through a yawn.

Dean hoisted himself to his feet and reached down for Sam.

De boosted Sam into Dean's arms. Lifting his baby was much easier than it should've been. Sam was _light_. It couldn't be healthy for someone to weigh that little.

De saw a frown flicker across his older self's face as he came to the same conclusion.

They locked eyes over Sam's head, and a resolution to fix this problem passed between them.

But that would have to start tomorrow, because right now their little boy was dozing against Dean's shoulder.

It was time to sleep.

…**.That took _forever_. I'm sorry. We're moving again, and I've been spending 5+ hours a day either getting ready to move, or babysitting.**

**It isn't like last time we moved either. For one thing, we're moving 14 hours away this time. **

**For another, we own what should be considered a library of books. My mom didn't want to have to move them this time, so we've been trying to ebay them off. The problem is, all our good computers belong to our school, and we lost them at the start of summer.**

**The computers we have now take about fifteen minutes to save one listing.**

**This is also part of why this took so long. We only have one charger for both slow computers, and my mom and I are almost constantly using the internet. It means only one of us can be on the computer at a time. **

**On another note, I have recently been informed that I look like a Barbie. (blinks in confusion) I don't wear skirts often (I like being able to move however I want to) but I put one on the other day. I also wore a tank top and heals (I never wear heals either). I went to ask my mom if the skirt was too short (we have very strict rules about that kind of thing) and she tells me that I look great. Then she informes me that I look like a Barbie. Ok…thanks, I guess?**

**I'm going to have to share a room in our new house. My younger sister is excited about it, but I'm kind of iffy. I like having my own space, y'know?**

**However, this is the way we're going to get the least amount of fighting. If my two youngest sisters shared, there would never be peace in the house. **

**Our new town is going to be really small. Like, seventh graders are high schoolers because the sports teams wouldn't be big enough if it was only 9-12, small. I'm kind of excited about that, but I'm also a little nervous. It's one of those "everyone knows everyone else, and you can't kiss someone without the whole town being privy to it" kinda places, as far as I understand. **

**If I don't fit in with the kids, I'm gonna be in trouble because there's no one else around to hang with.**

**I make friends pretty easily, though, so I should be good. **

**Anyway, thanks for waiting so long people.**


End file.
